


Quiet

by Remus_Lupins_Chocolate



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, There is angst but they’re too tired for it so they just, almost, baz sleeping in the bed but he wants Simon to be there, exist, simon sleeping on the sofa but he doesn’t rlly want to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27985377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remus_Lupins_Chocolate/pseuds/Remus_Lupins_Chocolate
Summary: There’s the sound of him sipping his water, then a glass hitting a coaster, then nothing. Not nothing, actually. Before was nothing, this is something. It’s Baz’s breathing, quicker than normal. It’s his finger tapping against the sofa. It’s not being alone, I think. It’s just as unbearable, but I could fall asleep to this; I wouldn’t have managed in the silence.Again, I roll to lie on my side, facing the back of the sofa. If my expression breaks, at least he won’t know. He won’t see it.“Snow.” He says quietly, just above a whisper.I don’t respond.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	Quiet

** Simon **

The quiet. That’s new. Spending so much time under the impression that I’d get jumped by something even though I was meant to be in a safe place is what caused it, I think. Caused the quiet, I mean. Usually I’m so busy thinking about things – actively not thinking about other things – that it’s just... loud. Screaming all of the time to watch out, to stay alert, to be ready for a fight. It only ever stopped that Christmas, with Baz, before everything else happened. It all just became a quiet buzz– and then I had to leave and the Mage, and ebb and–

Now all the noise I get is the sound of the radiator bellow the window humming gently and the sound of my own breathing. The squeaks of the sofa when I move, occasionally there’s a siren in the distance. But it’s still so silent.

My eyes open and I look at the dark ceiling, wrapping the blanket tighter around me and rolling onto my back. Penny and Baz think I’m asleep, because I tried to fall asleep when they put a documentary on, but I ended up watching that. (It turns out the ocean is actually pretty interesting.)

I did pretended to be asleep, so that they wouldn’t try to talk to me. After an hour, a blanket had been draped over me, and Baz had kissed my temple. It’s things like that which make me want to grab him and beg him to just tell me what he wants from me. Things that are so soft, and kind, and just fucking lovely, that I want us to be able to just have. To be fair, it is my fault we don’t just have that. I act like Baz is an open flame, when he’s just my boyfriend. There’s nothing wrong with him. I’m just fucked up over everything and he has to deal with it.

I hear the door to my bedroom open, and a few seconds later Baz’s footsteps travel across the room, passing behind the sofa, and into the kitchen. I close my eyes. So that he can’t see me glaring holes into the ceiling. The tap in the kitchen turns on, then off after a few seconds. Baz steps into the living room, faltering on his path to my bedroom. My sheets are going to smell like him. This footsteps approach the other sofa – the shorter one – and it groans as he sits.

There’s the sound of him sipping his water, then a glass hitting a coaster, then nothing. Not nothing, actually. Before was nothing, this is something. It’s Baz’s breathing, quicker than normal. It’s his finger tapping against the sofa. It’s not being alone, I think. It’s just as unbearable, but I could fall asleep to this; I wouldn’t have managed in the silence.

Again, I roll to lie on my side, facing the back of the sofa. If my expression breaks, at least he won’t know. He won’t see it.

“Snow.” He says quietly, just above a whisper.

I don’t respond.

There’s another rustle, a practically audibly eye roll, and when he speaks again, I can tell he’s moved nearer to the arm of his sofa which is near to me. “Simon, I know you’re awake. I can hear your breathing through the door.”

** Baz **

It may have been a lack judgement on my part earlier to not wake Simon up so he could sleep in his bed and I could pretend to sleep, while on the very edge of the bed so that he didn’t get uncomfortable. It was definitely a lack of judgement when I kissed him, because now he is awake and ignoring me. I could just go back to my room and we’d both pretend nothing happened. If I were a stronger person, maybe I would, but in reality I am very weak and when I’m awake at three in the morning I am much more reckless than usual, and disregard almost every bit of common sense I have. For that reason, I will sit and wait until Simon Snow answers me or until the last of my dignity disappears.

I grab my cup of water, wiping away the condensation with the cuff of my pyjamas for lack of anything better to do. Then Simon rolls over, and looks right at me. It occurs to me that I don’t actually have anything to say; I don’t know what I’m allowed to say. I just want to be with him. Really with him. And we don’t know how to do that; we never did. We were still working it out when whatever part of Simon’s life caught up with him.

It’s actually too dark for the eye contact we’re maintaining. While I can see exceedingly well in the dark, Simon can’t. Because he’s human, and I’m not. He’s managing to keep it up though, and yet neither of us can even think of something we could actually say to the other. Truly, romance has peaked with us. “Simon,” that’s a start. “Simon, –”

With a shake of the head, he cuts me off.

My mouth remains slightly open, ready to say whatever word I was going to throw out into the room with absolutely zero critical thinking. I look back down at my cup for a moment, then deposit it back in the coaster. When I look back to Simon, he’s holding the corner of the blanket up, and pressing his back into the sofa, leaving a small amount of space beside him on the sofa, where I could just fit, if I were to lay on my side too.

We should talk, or this should feel odd after so long of just... nothing. But I’m tired. I’m exhausted. And Simon wants me to lie down with him. At least, he does right now. I would do anything he wanted me to, no matter how short lived or self destructive it may be. I stand, moving from the loveseat over to the sofa Simon is stretched out on, and slip myself under the blanket I put over him earlier.

In front of me, the room is cold, but behind I can feel the heat radiating from Simon. He isn’t as warm as he used to be, but I’m glad, because if the window were open I wouldn’t be able to do this. Even with Simon a few inches away, I’d be far too cold.

The few inches close, Simon’s arm draping over my waist, his forehead and too-long curls – it’s been so long since he had a haircut – pressing into the base of my neck. Almost of it’s own accord, my right hand moves to cover Simon’s own where it rests on my abdomen.

Our fingers lace together, and Simon squeezes my hand as well as he can with it resting on top of his. I look around the room, trying and failing to distract myself from all of this. The heaviness this sliver of intimacy holds.

Dim light flows over the ceiling from the city outside, even though the street that window faces has few streetlights. Simon and Penny didn’t see any reason to have a blind there, and to be fair to them it wouldn’t be that useful. It would only be useful if people were to sleep on the sofa, which wouldn’t be happening if things were better than the last few months have been. They aren’t. For the moment though, things are okay.

Behind me, Simon moves his head, barely. Just enough for him to be able to gently press his lips to the top of my spine, before resting his forehead on the spot he kissed. I press my hand gently against the back of his and he presses it into my palm. “Goodnight, Simon.” I breathe, closing my eyes.

“Night, Baz.” He replies, breathing against my shoulder blade.

We’ll be okay. Maybe not tomorrow, or next week, or even anytime soon, but we will be. One day. We just have to carry on.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first bit of my writing I’ve posted anywhere online or shared at all in about half a year, so thanks for reading if you got this far :)
> 
> I’m a little bit more active on tumblr (mostly reblogging metas and fanart) so you can follow me there if you’re interested:  
> https://remus-lupins-chocolate.tumblr.com/


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